


L Is, in Fact, a Pervert

by Armagnac



Category: Death Note
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-08
Updated: 2010-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:09:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armagnac/pseuds/Armagnac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some accusations are truer than one might know, without evidence -- evidence a detective would know precisely how to hide.  Sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L Is, in Fact, a Pervert

**L Is, in Fact, a Pervert**

 

The lights were bright, with a bluish cast, and the faintest of hums could be heard in the background.  The room was sparse and clinical, with a high degree of reflection, everything focused on the subject at the center, the rich colors there – red, pink, and black – an affront to the cool hue of the remaining surroundings.  She, however, could not see anything.

 

"Where am I?"  Her voice echoed as her breath came in ragged gasps and she struggled against the straps.  "Please . . . don't do this . . ."

 

"Are you not being adequately compensated?"  The mechanized voice reverberated, tinny and warped in the room with the bare metallic walls.

 

"This isn't what I agreed to!"  She was trembling now, possibly from the chill, but probably from more than that.

 

"I went to a great deal of trouble for you – paid your bail, had all charges dropped . . . shall I reverse all of that and return you?"

 

"No!  Please, I . . . I'll do what you want.  I'll get you off, I promise!  It's just – if I can't even see you . . ."

 

"Visual contact is unnecessary and out of the question."

 

"Where _are_ you?"  Fluorescent light glinted off the metal plate shielding her eyes as she inclined her head, searching.

 

"I need you to get back to the script."  The mechanized voice was starting to sound a trifle peevish.

 

"Let me at least touch you – I'm good at what I do.  I can't even tell if you're in here with me . . ." 

 

"I am closer than you realize, and . . . you are making requests of me now?  I was under the impression that I was paying _you_."

 

"Money does me no good if I'm dead!"  Her lips were turning faintly blue as they pressed together.

 

"Your life is not in jeopardy.  No harm will come to you, I promise."

 

"But why can't I –"

 

" _Please_."  The mechanized voice was firm, but held a note of genuine pleading.  "I need you to get back to the script.  You will be released as soon as we are done."

 

The change in tone seemed to calm her somewhat.  She stopped straining against her bindings, breathing more evenly as she took a few deep breaths.  Swallowing once, she seemed to gather a reserve of strength, lips moving softly for a few moments before she spoke in a completely different manner and tone, throaty and brash.  "I know you're watching me, you sick fuck!  Nothing you do can stop what I've set in motion.  I've already won – you just don't have the balls to admit it."

 

"Yes, you did win.  And no one will ever know, except for the two of us."

 

" _What?_ "

 

"I've stolen your victory, D.  They will never know what you did, how you trapped him.  They will assume that I did it all.  This was not your grand comeback – this was my ascension."

 

"You . . . you fucking bastard!"  She bared her teeth as if in anger, color starting to return to her cheeks.

 

"Mm, yes, that is the best kind, actually."  The mechanized voice sounded amused.  "I trust that you are . . . comfortable?  Given your supposed aversion to sweets, I couldn't resist setting this up for you.  Consider it a parting gift, if you will."

 

As whirring noises commenced within the room, she jumped, but quickly remastered her composure.  "I'll kill you for this!" she shouted.

 

The rectangular platform to which she was bound shifted, tilting, its two sides sliding to separate a few inches so that her prone form was at an incline with her arms and legs pulled wider apart.  She arched her back, gritting her teeth as if in frustration, stretching just enough to snap the break-away strap of the black and pink lace bra that had been straining across her chest.  Her breasts popped free.  A small sound like a mechanized grunt could be heard.

 

Several servo-motors came into view, bringing an assortment of robotic arms closer to the half naked woman.  She cried out, tossing her russet hair as cold metal brushed her right nipple, causing it to cinch and protrude.  "Dammit!  I would have fucked you for real if you'd asked!  Do you even _have_ a cock?"

 

The mechanical voice seemed to laugh, a low hum skipping toward her like a stone across a pond.  "I do.  In fact, I have it out right now.  Pity it's too big for you to handle."

 

She growled, straining her neck.  "Prove it!  Get in here and fuck me with it!"

 

"That's not going to happen, and you know it."

 

"Coward."

 

"You can call me whatever you like – this is as close as we will ever get."  There was a playfulness in the tone of the mechanized voice now.

 

Derisive laughter spilled from her lips.  "I can't believe you're afraid of my vagina."

 

"Mm, speaking of . . ."

 

As the mechanized voice trailed off, one of the robotic arms moved closer to her, a hook extending, unseen by the woman.  She flinched at the touch of cold metal, low on her abdomen this time.  Pulling slowly, the arm held fast to the garment – pink rose on black lace against gleaming steel – until the panties broke free at both hips, leaving her completely exposed. 

 

"Damn you, Emmanuel!"

 

Several of the robotic arms moved closer to her, whirring and clicking, different items in their grasps.  One moved high above her, tipping a bottle, drizzling her skin with reddish-pink substance, the liquid surprising her as it hit her cheek just below the metal shield obscuring her eyes.  The syrup traced a swirling line from her mouth to her breasts to the sliver of her own pinkness at the juncture of her legs.  She licked her lips, tasting cautiously.  The arm moved away as three more arms followed suit with three more syrups – light brown, dark brown, and purple – leaving her naked flesh a strange roadmap of switchbacks, all ending at the same fork in the road.  She rolled her hips, arching her back once more, her skin and its decoration shining under the bright lights.

 

"You look . . . delicious."

 

"Oh yeah?  Then eat me."  Her voice was gruff, still defiant.

 

"Tempting . . ."  The mechanized voice seemed to sigh.  "Not possible, unfortunately."

 

"If you won't kill me or fuck me, then why the hell am I here?"

 

"Because you are _mine_ now, and I may do with you what I wish."

 

"They'll look for me!"  Her breathing had quickened, breasts rising and falling atop her ribcage, both nipples hard, pink accusations pointing back.

 

"They won't.  But don't worry – I'll make you forget all about them."

 

Another robotic arm came more fully into view, rising from below her.  It moved slowly, repositioning, changing its angle and then resuming its progress toward her.  There was no hook or bottle at the end of it – a long, pale green dildo was its only digit, extending toward her, stopping only once it had reached the folds of her sex.

 

She gasped once, jerking back slightly before settling herself, waiting.  The arm advanced, moving slightly upward, and she jumped again, her mouth twisting.  "Banana cream!"

 

"One moment . . ." came the exasperated mechanized reply as the arm halted its movement.

 

The arm retreated, retracting its digit, before changing its angle slightly and advancing again.  Her breath hitched as it entered her, gliding slowly in.  The arm itself stopped its forward motion and a mechanism attached to the dildo began moving it in and out of her, a smooth motion that gradually gained momentum.  Her breathing deepened, her fingers gripping at the sides of the platform, and she began to moan softly.

 

"Say it."  The mechanized voice was low, echoing faintly.

 

"Fuck me!  I want _you_ to fuck me, Emmanuel!"  She was writhing, thrusting back to meet the motions of the arm, rhythm fully in sync.

 

"Say my name again."

 

"Emmanuel!  Emmanu _el!_ "

 

Her back arched forcefully, and she cried out, her skin flushing, her lips and nipples the hue of crushed berries now.  The robotic arm penetrating her pulled back abruptly, and a crash could be heard.  "Shit," came the mechanized voice.

 

"Is something wrong?"  Her voice was tentative.

 

"Nothing that can't be fixed."  The mechanized voice sounded clipped.  "I will have to send in my technician to make repairs.  Do not worry, he is under contract to be discreet.  I have some things to attend to in the meantime – we will resume when he is finished."

 

"But . . . what about . . ."

 

"Not another word."  The mechanized voice snapped before the clip ended.

 

 _She was indeed delicious_ , L thought, remembering the rest, his thumb idly stroking his lower lip.  She'd been wanton and willing when he'd entered the room as the "technician."  He'd licked her fully clean of all the syrups, the sugary ones and her own, nipping lightly at her flesh before penetrating the moistness at the end of her neat strip of dark reddish fur, first with his tongue and fingers, and then with his cock, plunging into her as hard as he could.  Her cries of delight seemed completely unfeigned, accompanied by fierce clenching within her.  He'd then taken a spoon and dotted her with clotted cream, dropping the occasional strawberry on her, and in her, to lick her clean again and begin anew, this time while "testing" the capabilities of the robotic arms in tandem with their own frenzied movements.

 

He still wished he'd been able to film that as well – almost as much as he wished it had been Deneuve herself he'd been fucking.  L sighed.  _And if wishes were horses, I'd have been trampled long ago_ , he thought.

 

His lips quirked up as he thought of Light, still sleeping behind him at his end of the chain, discovering just the other day what he'd thought had been L's kink.  The stack of photos had been stashed in a shoebox on what was clearly L's side of the closet, so he knew that Light had been deliberately snooping.  Light's expression when L had caught him holding a particularly lurid shot of two women and one man in compromising positions with assorted pastries had been priceless.  _"Dessert fetish" isn't the half of it, boyo_ , L thought, suppressing a chuckle.  _He'd no doubt turn paler than I am if he saw any of my videos_.

 

L wondered if he would have the chance to re-enact his fantasy, perhaps with a blonde this time.  He let his left hand trace slowly down, over his chest and abdomen, slipping under the waistband of his boxers, as his right hand reached for the mouse to click "Play" again.

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I'd try my hand at a M-rated/explicit crack-fluff one-shot with two challenging caveats: 1. stay in character, and 2. no main character pairings. I was looking to split the difference between creepy and amusing. I'm not sure I succeeded entirely, but it was an interesting exercise. I gave L fetishes to include dessert/food-play, BDSM, robotics, and roleplaying. He doesn't get out much, and I'm guessing plain-vanilla masturbatory aids would get boring rather quickly, especially for someone already so smart and twisted. Oh, and if you weren't sure from the context, "banana cream" was their safe word.


End file.
